


sight-seeing

by vegetas



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Local Gay Uncle Edward Little, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, listen... so many pet names...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26902030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vegetas/pseuds/vegetas
Summary: it's not about the destination, it's the journey.
Relationships: Thomas Jopson/Lt Edward Little
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37
Collections: The Joplittle Fall Fic Exchange 2020





	sight-seeing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [owlboxes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlboxes/gifts).



> LANAAAA i was so happy to get you <3 i tweaked this a little bit to say 'one of many' autumns, and i did say 'home is where the heart is'... (I ALSO MAY BE WORKING ON ANOTHER VERSION OF THAT PROMPT/PLUS YOUR SECOND PROMPT BUT IT UH. GOT WILDLY OUT OF HAND so we're still working on that..........................................)
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, work has been NUTTY so it was so nice to finish this and live in this VVORLD with ed and tom for a little bit ;;;
> 
> (also this is me putting my foot down for Tam as thomas' nickname because i'm obsessed with it....)
> 
> *i updated this with one line that somehow didn't make it in?????? don't know how because it's the best joke in the whole thing. 
> 
> XOXOXOXO

> ...so many
> 
> lives woven into mine,
> 
> such improbable quantities
> 
> of memory: so much already
> 
> forgotten, lost, pruned away–
> 
> yet the doves, the doves!
> 
> _Doves | CK Williams_

  
  


Alice wanted The Grand Tour. 

_Is that not the fashion these days, sweetest?_

Dear Fred, pliant in his widowhood, couldn't deter her. Word traveled circuitously amongst the Little’s, so by the time the news got to the Commander via Royal Mail the itinerary of the tour itself had been compromised much, its membership triplicated.

“Alice, Isabella and Kate!” He called, having gotten up to walk himself and the letter into the drawing room. 

“Begging pardon?” Thomas looked up from where he was shaking a vaseful of water out the window into the shrub below. 

“Alice, Isabella _and_ Kate,” Edward repeated, rubbing at his eye beneath his spectacles at the change of light from his study. “Wish to go to the continent for The Grand Tour. Or, _a_ Grand Tour I should say. It certainly isn’t the one I recall.”

He re-read his sister’s insistent slanting script. 

  
“They intend for Paris, Vienna and Florence,” he shook his head in utter dismay, imagining his nieces shuffling from the feet of ruins in their dusty party dress skirts, “that will take nigh on a year, even with the rail.”

“Then on to Rome, do you suppose?” 

Water glugged back into the vase, dry petals making their papery _shh-shh_ when Thomas moved them to the empty pitcher - the last of the summer blooms, cup-and-saucers, bellflowers, mallow, the charming little blues he calls _‘ragged ladies’_ which makes Edward laugh.

“I would suppose,” Edward agreed, shifting the leaves of the letter. “She does not make mention of it, but I _would_ suppose that. To do otherwise would be insensible...”

Thomas smiled to himself at the little disagreeable grumble to Edward’s voice, arranging the dry grass and goldenrod. Tickseed was already taking over half the back bed and every morning upon waking Edward sneezed three times on his way to close the window and scared the cat off her cushion.

“Lucy wants _me_ to chaperone them. Could you even fathom!”

“I could,” Thomas said, tearing off a leaf poking out too much for his liking. The pages ceased their rustling. “You would adore it.”

“My darling,” came the usual declaration employed before particularly civil admonishments, “I adore my nieces, I do not know if I would adore shunting them across the Alps. At my age, no less...” 

“Of course not,” Thomas, stepping away from the sideboard. He closed the window and brushed off his hands, taking his good long look: Edward, vexed, with his hand on the back of the armchair, the other on his hip, papers fanning like a tail feather. “But our chuck surely wouldn’t be without his faithful help.” 

He took his old stance, hands behind his back, at his fullest attention.

Edward’s mouth opened incredulously at the presentation and then closed it in a grimace.

“This is not some country dance,” he said humorlessly, “this is _The Continent_ , Thomas.”

“But I’ve been practicing,” was Thomas’ airy reply, “for Herr Strauss’ Orchestra. That one you’re always humming, the two little doves woltzer!”

He found his way across the parlor rug, step-together, step-together, did a neat little turn. Edward eyed the antic over his spectacles.

“You play now,” he batted at Thomas’ chest with the letter, “but they will lose all love for you just as easily as they exhaust their love of me. I guarantee that. We will be on the Rhine with months yet to endure and nothing to show for ourselves but the wrinkles on my brow.”

Thomas let out a wordless little scoff, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

“Whatever would you do?” he lamented, looping his arms around Edward’s hips, devastated, “I suppose you’ll have to take in the scenery? Fetch a man for a glass of champagne? My poor poor baa-lamb, suffering in some sunny foreign place.”

Edward made a low disproving sound while Thomas squeezed him, inching closer to touch his lips. 

“ _I_ make the case,” he rested his chin on Edward’s chest when he was finished with his kisses, not below batting his eyelashes now and again when it served, “that I never got my honeymoon, Mr. Little. _Not_ very decent of you, that was.”

“Like a cautionary tale in _Lady’s Cabinet_ , I do know,” Edward replied, flat. He huffed at the exaggerated frowning, but Thomas knew he’d very well won. 

“And I still let you practice your _shunting_ anyway you like, and I don’t even have to see the sights,” Thomas sighed, dropping a well-timed kiss on Edward’s warm cheek. 

  
“There will be so much to get in order,” Edward muttered, rubbing at his forehead. “Settling the credit, the arrangements. I’ll have to start making inquiries on what introductions to make. I should write to George, he loves Paris...”

“A gentleman should always have his occupations,” Thomas purred, winding ever closer around him. “Shall we try on your uniform, first, Commander? Make sure it still fits in all the right places so to impress the young ladies? You’ll garner invitations for all the balls in those full-dress blues, I wager. We could get you a good German widow, and she can make us apple strudel.”

“There won’t be time for showing off my Mazurka, you, while I’m warding off far more persistent suitors,” Edward replied with a sly look and Thomas bit his lip, shrugged.

“Fits the bill. You know better than any how entrapping male company may be.” He clucked, “what is it Hale used to call me? Tedious?”

“‘ _H_ _ e’s an insouciant little sponge, Ned _ ’” Edward delivered in a convincing imitation of his stalwart eldest brother. “Unfortunately for him I do like a good English sponge, so I suppose I’ll have to take you along anyway.” 

“You’re full of it.”

“No, my dear, I believe _you_ are. Raspberry and fresh cream -”

Thomas couldn’t help the shocked laugh he gave, nor his blush, smacking Edward’s firm middle.

*

Alice wanted The Grand Tour, but she settled for the galleries in London. Edward called it _a perfectly acceptable view of the world_ , and one far easier on his joints. 

“You will thank me later, Liss,” Edward said, as she sat disappointedly on the rug to rub the cat’s ears (a round dumpling of a thing, calico spotted), sipping at the tea Thomas gave him, “for not forcing you to suffer the mosquitos.” 

  
“I thought it was wonderful, Uncle,” Kate said over the sound of her cousin’s sullen sulking, reaching for another sandwich from the tray on the occasional table. They’d just arrived back to the house, and Thomas had luncheon waiting, as he always did. 

“Oh, Tam dear, you wouldn’t believe it,” Isabella continued. “They had a wonderful exhibition of American painters - from the Hudson Valley School - landscapes of the North East! They had leaves all over the floor! Real leaves! From New York state!”

“Leaves? In the gallery?” Thomas’ brow crinkled, and he took to the other chair in the room with a soft cough - the reason he had been left behind in the first place. 

“To prove the paintings,” Alice interrupted, gathering her skirts and walking on her knees to be closer to Thomas’ legs where she turned and leaned against them, her head tilted into his lap. He looked at her hair, falling from its combs from the exertion of the travel, and tutted. 

“The colors, Tam! Oh the colors of the trees - ! All bright red and gold and orange, why it was as if they were on fire!” Isabella cried, clutching at the fabric of her gown at the memory. As if to illustrate the very point, the fireplace suddenly popped behind the grate, casting everything in a rosy glow.  
  


“They said Queen Victoria did not even believe her own eyes when she saw them, and so the artist has autumn leaves brought in from New England and sprinkled all around the ground beneath the painting to prove that the colors are natural,” Kate said when Thomas remained skeptical. 

“They call it _fall_ in America,” Alice said, tipping back to look at Thomas where he was winding some of her curls around his finger to fix them. 

“Sounds quite the gimmick,” Thomas said and across the rug Edward jerked slightly when the cat pounced onto his lap.

“I found the rendering of Niagara to be true, at least,” Edward said at last when she had circled his legs and then settled herself more comfortably upon them. He pet her head gently, and she stretched out her chin in pure contentment. 

  
“You’ve seen Niagara Falls?” Kate exclaimed.

“We both have,” Edward said, nodding to Thomas who rolled his eyes when all three girls turned to him. 

“On the expedition?”

“On our way back from Canada. It was remarkable. I’d even say spectacular. Do you recall, Thomas? You must.”

  
“It was a long while ago,” Thomas cut off with a soft clear of his throat, still teasing at Alice’s curls and then casting his eyes about the girl's faces.

“Your uncle met Queen Victoria as well, did you know? Nearly fell in love with her.” 

Alice scoffed and Isabella made a swooning sound on the settee as she drew her shawl around and cuddled closer to Kate. 

“Uncle, why is it that all the interesting things have happened to you and you don’t _talk_ about them?” Kate whined, rubbing her cheek on the part of Isabella’s hair. Outside the September wind was shivering through the trees and sending fine English leaves listing gracefully toward the ground in little swirls and eddies.

“Because it was _also_ a long while ago, and I was merely _presented_ ,” Edward sighed, shaking his head with a faint blush that made Thomas put his tongue against his teeth. “She was a young lady then, and very beautiful.”

Then, shyly, “anyone would have fallen in love with her. Not only me. I daresay we all did...” 

“Don’t let him fool you, _he_ had half a chance. He was a strapping man in his day -.”

  
“Oh, Tam, was he?” 

“Mr. Jopson,” Edward scolded, still blushing as he tried to negotiate holding his cup and saucer without disturbing the creature kneading at his thigh.   
  
  
Thomas closed his mouth obediently and Alice giggled. 

“You will have to ask Captain Hodgson, the next time that you see him. He remembers all that far better,” Edward quickly dismissed, finally moving to set his cup of tea aside.

“When shall that be? It’s been so terribly long since the last time,” Alice groused and Thomas admonished her softly while Edward set about running his hand quietly over the cat’s back. 

“Well, I believe it is set that you will see him in France, in the spring, when we are in Paris together…”

A stunned silence fell over the room, the fire still crackling and then there was a rush as suddenly three sets of skirts swallowed Edward whole in their race to get to him first. Isabella, being the littlest, somehow managed to replace the cat upon Edward’s lap, her arms around him as she showered him with grateful kisses. 

“You mean it? France?” Alice was near to gasping and Edward could only manage to wheeze a yes, so encased was he in their arms. 

“A little bit of room, my ladies,” Thomas chuckled from behind them, pleased when they drew back to give Edward some air.

“Thomas and I will see you safely to Paris,” Edward explained after a moment, Isabella winding her hands in his waistcoat. He met her eyes and flinched, for he was perilously weak to them (Isabella most of all, being the baby and so much like his sister Harriot). Their faces seemed crestfallen before brightening at the words that followed, “but from there you shall be quite happy and comfortable with Captain and Mrs. Hodgson. I have seen to all the arrangements and introductions for you...”

“Uncle!” Kate cried, gripping his hand and squeezing it. Edward took a beat and squeezed it back Alice leaning in to gently kiss his hair. 

“You wicked man to pretend and let me be so spoiled and cross with you!” 

“That’s the very nature of surprise,” Edward said sincerely.

“Besides, I do not have any daughters of my own. So you three must do for spoiling,” he blinked at them and Isabella kissed his cheek once more, nuzzling at his whiskers. 

*

“What are you thinking about?” Edward asked as they were lying in bed later in the evening, the girls all put away in the spare rooms until their departure in the morning. 

Thomas had his head upon Edward's chest, his eyes closed, while Edward thumbed through a French book that had survived his schoolyears. Thomas was grateful to have him home again, after the long weekend away - specifically so that he could shove his cold feet under his calf to warm them.

  
“How you are the only brazier I know that can hold heat well, and about how I do not know a word of French,” Thomas chuckled, nudging at Edward’s nightshirt with his nose. “And how I miss you much when you’re away. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on my lonesome.”

“Oh, pet,” Edward sighed, caressing over his hair, and Thomas curled around him more. “I would have preferred you with me. But the air is so bad there, and with the weather being as damp as it may be in September and as the doctor advises..."

  
“I know, Teddy, I know,” Thomas huffed, a cough coming on just to spite him for arguing the point. They'd both poked their fun at the idea of travel, but even going as far as London was often a stretch. His eyes blinked open slowly in the aftermath and he was disappointed to feel Edward holding his breath slightly where he laid underneath him.  
  
  
“Is something on _your_ mind, Mr. Little?” 

He heard the book close and be set aside, Edward’s hand stroking his hair in earnest now.

“Do you recall Niagara?”

Thomas lifted his head, rolling onto his side so that he could see Edward’s face which was pinched with worry. 

  
“I do,” he admitted, and he watched relief surge over Edward as soon as the words left his mouth. “But I do not know if it is how _you_ remember it.”

“The painting of it,” Edward said in turn, his brown eyes meeting his own. “It truly was as though I was there again. Standing at the look out point and bearing out at it across the river. I could hear that roaring, and feel the mist. The rainbows it threw everywhere. How I had forgotten that any land could look any way but flat and endless. How I cried to see water move so...” He sank into silence, eyes darting away and training on the lamp lit on the bureau as they glassed over. 

“It was September then, as well,” Thomas said, as a way of distraction, smiling when Edward smiled again, “all the leaves were changing.”

“Yes!” Edward grinned, and then, dimming slightly, “yes. Just turning. Yellow and ocher. My.”

He lowered his eyes more to Thomas’ face, thumb glancing along his cheek. 

  
“How do you remember it, little honeycake horse?”

“Large, impressive,” Thomas rattled off, sighing as he reached up to pet Edward's wrist. It was both of those things, and more. The confluence of the three falls in the gorge was breathtaking, and the noise thunderous. Still, at the time, he’d been far more preoccupied with the man with him now - how the mist hazed and haloed on his hair and the startling blue of his new coat against the sand and powder blue of the sky. The way his back straightened from its slouch for the first time in so long. He was as straight as the pines around them, as the first day he'd walked on board those years ago. 

“Mostly I recall how much it pleased you to take the detour, and how well you looked. You’d gotten your strength back, by then. I was so glad for it.”

“You cannot mean that,” Edward whispered, nearly put out by the admission, and Thomas bared his teeth to grin. 

  
“I do mean that,” he teased, and Edward chewed his lip guiltily, cupping his face. 

“I would take you anywhere you wished to go,” he said after the long pause. “Not just as my companion, but to please you.” 

The sentiment was true, but the time for such things - if there had ever truly been one - was long passed. No matter. Thomas Jopson’d been halfway round the world, to its farthest strangest corners, at both poles, and stood before its many wonders and all he’d ever thought to look at was Edward Little from the moment he strolled into view. 

“Wherever you happen to be seems to suit me fine,” Thomas murmured, giving voice to the thought and bending up to kiss him. Edward groaned at the stiffness of his neck when he met his mouth, but soon Thomas was laughing. Edward deepened the kiss, his arm winding around his shoulders, Thomas’ legs worming around his to tangle them closer together.

“I’m only sorry that we’ll have the girls to look after in Paris,” Thomas murmured between the kisses he was receiving, shifting his hips experimentally. They were getting on, but not so _feeble_. At least not enough to be a nuisance yet, except when sharing tight quarters (then again, they’d navigated that before hadn’t they?).

“Well,” Edward muttered, adjusting to the way Thomas insisted on fitting up against him. “One might experience any sort of calamity when they are traveling…” he went on, and Thomas nodded in understanding, placing his lips on Edward’s neck and along his jaw. Of course. It was more than decent of Edward to be sure they were looked after.

  
“...Calamities like one might book themselves travel the wrong way. Say to Avignon, instead of the proper return because their French is not quite what it used to be…”

Thomas stilled, lifting his head. Edward peered at him from under his lashes. 

  
“That could be quite a snare to untangle,” Thomas hushed, after careful consideration. "Could take a few days a delay like that.”

“Perhaps even a full week, depending on that sort of confusion, and how out of the way one ends up,” Edward acknowledged, and then, as the wrinkles at his eyes all bunched together, “which is why one must never go alone.”   
  


“Or on an empty stomach?” Thomas added, “something, something, about a good sponge was it?”  
  
  
His words cut off as Edward suddenly seized the quilt and yanked it over both their heads, spiriting them out of sight. 

**Author's Note:**

> 1) 1860 the leaves in the gallery thing really did happen. the painting was 'autumn on the hudson river' by jasper francis cropsey and yes, english people really didn't believe it. 
> 
> 2) ed did get presented to the queen and someday i will be talking more about that disaster.


End file.
